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Scenes From The Zombie Apocalypse

June 17, 2025 58 Comments

In the comments, Dicentra shares the video embedded below:

Are you ok with this?pic.twitter.com/iC22VLL8bo

— Dr. Clown, PhD (@DrClownPhD) June 16, 2025

Along with the comment,

Question of the day: Are you okay with this? By the responses, I’d say that yes, pretty much everyone is.

There is, I think, among many, a weariness of seeing escalating levels of fucking about with too little of the customary finding out.

The driver’s actions are at least comprehensible, a response to aggression, alarm and danger. The activists’ actions, in contrast, are a deranged provocation, a twisted entertainment. A gratuitous cause of danger. And the kinds of creatures who play these unhinged, sadistic games cannot be relied on to observe normal moral boundaries.

She, the activist, and her gang of masked associates, are the ones needlessly initiating the drama. They are the ones going out of their way to aggress random strangers, creating a credible threat, and doing so with glee. It’s an in-your-face display of recreational malice. They are high on themselves, on their mob power, and they’re loving every minute of it. These are not activities indulged in reluctantly or under duress.

And the activists’ power lies in an assumption that their victims will not risk injuring their assailants.

But to insist that the victims should remain trapped, inert, and at the mercy of their aggressors, indefinitely, and while risking greater danger to themselves or their property, does not strike me as a morally persuasive position. And note that the activists typically rush from all sides, rapidly surrounding the car and its occupants, intensifying the alarm, the likelihood of panic, and drastically reducing the driver’s options. This is not accidental.

There’s an implied dare. The game being, “You won’t do what’s needed, despite our alarming and menacing behaviour, because you’re nicer than us, less vain, and not unhinged, and so we can dominate you and terrorise you, and break your stuff, for as long as we want, for shits and giggles.”

Well. I would suggest that the activists’ own actions render their wellbeing of very low importance.

Again, people who behave in this way cannot be relied on to observe normal moral boundaries. Are their victims, their chosen targets, those alarmed drivers and passengers, the ones just going about their business – are they supposed to assume that the mob of unhinged aggressors exulting in their capture and harassment will not press their advantage and do something worse?

“The masked, screaming people are only blocking our path and surrounding us.”

“Now they’re only smashing the windscreen and pulling at the door handles.”

“And now they’re only…”

At what point, precisely, would one’s alarm be considered sufficient? By all means use the comments to thrash out this terribly modern moral problem.

Update, via the comments:

Drivers and passengers who suddenly find themselves being harassed by self-styled activists would be wise to consider what kind of person would aggress them in this way. They wear masks and rush in front of moving cars, and then encircle them, trapping them, in order to dominate and terrorise the occupants and thereby feel important.

Importance being conceived as having power over others.

To assume that the bedlamites who do this – who choose to do this, over and over again, exulting in each triumph – are somehow good people, or that they mean well, or that they are likely to show restraint and not violate further boundaries… seems foolish. To say the least.

I was reminded of this rather shocking incident, from Portland in 2016, showing similar ‘activist’ tactics, and in which a lone female driver is encircled by a mob of baseball-bat-wielding ‘protestors’ who are trying to smash her car’s windscreen into her face while videoing her distress. For amusement purposes. And bragging rights, one assumes.

Because they’re such righteous people. Not, say, sociopaths with a pretext.

Commenter ccscientist adds,

Of course, the politics is just pretextual, as can be seen by the fact that the same thugs show up at a random assortment of topical protests.

The primary reason they’re behaving in this way is because they really do enjoy behaving in this way. Again, it’s not done reluctantly or under duress. It’s chosen. It’s a go-to activity. The rest is pretext, a fig-leaf for self-pleasuring.

As I said here,

It’s interesting just how often “social justice” posturing entails something that looks an awful lot like spite or petty malice, or an attempt to harass and dominate, or some other obnoxious behaviour. Behaviour that, without a “social justice” pretext, might get you called a wanker or a bitch. A coincidence, I’m sure.

It is, I think, worth pondering why it is that these supposed displays of righteousness routinely take the form of obnoxious or bullying or sociopathic behaviour, whereby random people are screwed over and dominated, and often reduced to pleading. Pleading just to get home, to children, or to work, or to get to the doctor’s surgery. Even ambulances and fire engines can be obstructed, indefinitely, with both impunity and moral indifference.

Among our self-imagined betters, it seems to be the go-to approach for practically any purported cause. Which is terribly convenient. Almost as if the supposed activism were more of a pretext, an excuse, a license to indulge pre-existing urges.

And what kind of person would have urges like that?

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Reading time: 4 min
Written by: David
Anthropology Free-For-All

Drag Queen Incongruity

June 16, 2025 82 Comments

A possible series:

North Yorkshire Fire and Rescue Service wants to know what you think of this.

If you want to let them know, details in replies. pic.twitter.com/ytLqqbVH0I

— Gay Not Queer (@Gaynotqueer1) June 14, 2025

According to the North Yorkshire Fire and Rescue Service:

Being part of Pride helps us show that we’re here for everyone… Representation matters, and we want all members of our communities to know that we’re here for them if they need us.

Lest anyone assume that fire engines don’t turn up to the burning houses of sassy, finger-clicking transvestites, or something.

Curiously, the North Yorkshire Fire and Rescue Service survey form, inviting the public to express their views on Pride attendance and matters of transvestite outreach, has, with seeming briskness, now been shut down.

Readers may wish to speculate on why that might be.

And when you think Fire and Rescue Service, what you want is a mental image of vamping, squealing drag queens in unfeasible heels and flammable wigs, tottering unsteadily to your rescue while wrestling suggestively with a big hose.

Lifted from the comments.

Consider this an open thread. Share ye links and bicker.

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Written by: David
Ephemera

Friday Ephemera (771)

June 13, 2025 214 Comments

Don’t forget to mow the lawn, she said. || Today’s word is inadvisable. || Niche meme for sci-fi/farming enthusiasts. || Art thou not enriched? || The thrill of living in the Barbican, 1972. || Make-believe at the BBC. Or just misreporting. || Transporter malfunction. || Our artistic betters opine. || Today’s other word is payback. || Posture optimised toilet. || Not impossible. || Typing with light. || Glycerine and detergent. || “We all lost our minds,” says she. || It would, I think, be a start and result in less friction. || Try skateboarding, they said. || Skatepark for the blind. It’s also wheelchair-accessible. || Better than anticipated, all things considered. || The thrill of London buses, 1973. || Your empathetic betters. || Remaining optimistic, he sent back reports by homing pigeon. || Alexa, pause.

To enable extra commenting options – including @username mentions, upvotes, and live notifications – scroll down to the black ‘Meta’ box at the very bottom of the page and click register. It’s free and quite painless.

And you can, should you wish, follow me on X.

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Written by: David
Anthropology Books Free-For-All

I Question The Causality

June 11, 2025 120 Comments

Lifted from the comments, a teacher tells us things:

Oh, honey. No. https://t.co/cPpIjk02Rv

— Overeducated Gibbon (@MostlyMonkey) June 11, 2025

A thread ensues, from which: 

Is it enough to just own the books? Researchers aren’t yet sure. 

Consider this an open thread. Share ye links and bicker.

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Reading time: 1 min
Written by: David
Reheated

Reheated (107)

June 9, 2025 113 Comments

From the archives – and from the golden age of the Guardian – some examples of improbable agonising.

The Cupcake Menace.

Women, we’re told, are being mentally injured by small baked goods.

After telling us at length just how terrible and mind-warping these tiny fancies are, at least among women, Mr Seaton adds, “I don’t want to ban cupcakes.” And yet he feels it necessary to say this, as if banning miniature sponges would be an obvious thing to consider, the kind of thing one does. And after banning them in his own office.

A commenter asks, “What is it with people’s inability to ignore the things they don’t like?” Meaning things you don’t like and which have no bearing whatsoever on your everyday life or the turning of the world. Say, “our” alleged “obsession” with cupcakes and their supposedly debilitating effects on helpless, hapless womenfolk. Women being so mentally insubstantial that even a tiny cake can unhinge their minds, apparently.

But fretting ostentatiously about things of no importance has long been a standard template for Guardian articles, especially if you can shoehorn in some sophomoric theorising. It’s something most papers do to some extent, due to the obligation to Fill Space Somehow, but the Guardian is by far the greatest exponent and the most grandiose. Many of its contributors have mastered inadvertent surrealism.

As commenter sk60 quipped in reply,

I love it when Guardianistas talk about “our obsession” with something that no-one I know is obsessed with.

Two Balls Bad, No Balls Good.

On being oppressed by suburban barbecues, where, it turns out, the Patriarchy reigns and women are crushed underfoot.

Mr Power is upset that some heinous “biological determinism” holds sway in the warm-weather custom of cooking outdoors. A phenomenon that, we learn, “sees women as salad-spinners and men as the keepers of the grill, the tenders of the flame, lords and masters of the meat.” “It’s a sausage-fest out there,” says Mr Power. “And it’s getting ugly.” Because there’s nothing uglier than the sight of menfolk indulging, often knowingly, in a clichéd male behaviour – cooking for friends and family and making sure that everyone is having a good time.

I’ve been to a few barbecues over the years, one or two with female grill-keepers, though most with males wielding the Plastic Spatula of Oppression™. I can’t say I was ever aware of much argument as to roles. It generally seems to depend on who’s in the mood or who’s the better cook, at least of the items in question, or – perhaps more commonly – who’s prepared to spend the day on duty, sweating, while smelling of grease and smoke.

I’ve yet to hear of womenfolk being locked indoors, away from the charcoal and firelighters, by surly, hissing men. And at the barbecue I attended recently, the matriarch of the house had a much more important job than merely cooking sausages. My sister-in-law kept the day lubricated with endless, quite colossal, pitchers of Pimms. Priorities, you see.

It doesn’t seem to have occurred to Mr Power that quite a few people, male and female, actually enjoy the role-play opportunity of the barbecue – the theatre, the ritual, the fun. Even – heresy! – gendered fun. But hey, the point is that some of you heathens are still arranging your leisure time and social gatherings in a way of which our Guardianista disapproves. Your barbecues aren’t being gender balanced in the way he would like.

Also, the assertion by our learned journalist:

Several thousand years have passed since men had to kill our protein, make a fire, cook it and eat it.

Her Unspeakable Woes.

Guardian writer is psychologically crushed by spellcheck software, disposable paper cups.

You see, Ms Icess Fernandez Rojas has endured this poignant political struggle before – “a lifetime of having my name misspelled and mispronounced.” Which is why you, the public, must be told. What with your dull and obvious names, like Jessica and Angela.

“Angela could get coffee at Starbucks with ease,” says Ms Rojas, “while Icess was still spelling her name out.” Oh, this new realm of suffering: “Jessica was a staple at my local Chinese place even though Icess paid. And even Microsoft Word recognised Jenny as a proper pronoun, a proper person, over me; the red squiggle line was a constant reminder.”

Spellcheck too? Will this oppression never end? And doubtless Ms Rojas is intimately familiar with the spelling and pronunciation of every name of every employee at her local Chinese restaurant.

Prompted by Ted S in the comments. Which you’re reading, of course.

For those craving more, this is a pretty good place to start.

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Written by: David
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In which we marvel at the mental contortions of our self-imagined betters.